Warhammer 40,000: The Lost World
by Red Geist
Summary: In this story modeled after episodic HBO dramas, a Space Marine chapter comes to terms with finding a world mimicking Earth in the 21st Century, long before the time of the Emperor. Stranger still, they have had no contact with aliens, the perils of the warp, or the Imperium until they arrived. Subtle drama, deep characters, and an elaborate plot, what more could you want?


Warhammer 40,000: The Lost World

It was 1:31 in the morning. The man was checking his watch almost every minute it seemed. A gold pocket watch, the polish faded slightly with age. Fog and the dark of night obscured much on the sea. His middleman was running late. Only by a few minutes, but paranoia can inflame minor slights into great problems.

A smaller boat pierced the fog and approached slowly. It came up alongside the stern of the man's ship, and a sturdy wooden footbridge was lowered to connect the two. The middleman had come with enough workers to move the cargo properly. Grey crates, weighing in at about thirty pounds each, moved from the larger boat to the smaller one, almost sixty in all. Within minutes, the footbridge was lifted, and the smaller boat left back into the fog from whence it came, and towards shore.

The boat came upon a section of dock along a secluded part of what was a vast port. Unnoticed in the dark of night, men in long coats and austere hats carrying rifles were there to greet the boat. The crates were loaded into three two trucks in a matter of minutes.

"Okay fellas we drive straight on till morning to get to that conference. Our buyer wants the goods by sunup so if you gotta take a piss, do it now." One man who sounded like the overseer of the operation waved a black and silver military shotgun giving the signal for his goons to get ready to roll out.

The trucks made it thirty miles without an issue, until they came upon an overturned car blocking the road. This part of the country was poorly paved, and barely a calling box to be found on the highway for miles. Thick trees held the pitch black together on either side of the road, itself illuminated only by the starlight, and the headlights of the two cars.

There was a woman slumped over on the pavement before the vehicle. From the distance of fifty feet or so the overseer could see the woman had a gash on her head and blood on much of her face. She looked dead.

"Fucking shit." The man slammed the metal of the steering wheel with his open palm. He ordered some men to come with him to investigate the scene. The driver of the other car followed out of curiosity.

Upon closer inspection, they found the woman to be alive but unconscious. The gash on her head looked superficial, "She ain't dead boss."

"Good for her. Now get her off the road. You and you, get this piece of shit off the road too!"

Three men turned the car over and with all of their effort pushed it into the woods enough for the lane to clear. The woman was placed up against the tree by one of the workers. Pretty thing. Violet hair, cybernetic right arm, and a good one at that. It was plated with fluted steel pieces to give the illusion of musculature covering the piping and pneumatic mechanisms. She had black tattoos of jagged symbols stretching out from where the arm met her skin all over her collar bone, down across her shoulder blade, and almost over her right breast. He took his time propping her up, ogling her. He gave one of her breasts a squeeze.

Suddenly the overseer pulled the man away from her, "We need to get back on the road. No delays."

It was then that the forest creaked and cracked. Great footsteps slamming onto branches, twigs, and dry leaves. With only the light of the trucks to illuminate the area, the men raised weapons and waved them in every direction.

Great armored soldiers, wearing cream and brick red pauldrons, carrying holy weapons of death, emerged from the shadows of the woodlands and onto the highway. Space Marines they were called. Five in all, massive like gods of ancient lore, and epic like heroes of old, but as real as any of they were. They had their sights upon them, bolter rifles leveled at the men. Icy blue eyes they peered down upon them.

That was when the woman sprang up, drawing a serrated knife and a baroque pistol on the biggest of the cronies. Knife almost ten inches long upon his throat, her pistol aimed at the others, it made a roaring sound as it came to life.

"The fuck is this?" One man yelled.

"Space Marines? Really?"

"By the order of the government of these lands and the Emperor of which all man serves, you are under arrest. Resist and you shall be punished with deadly force." A man with a bright red helmet spoke to the group, his voice put through a filter to sound more intimidating, or at least attempted to. However, the sheer size of each of them and their reputation worked enough in their favor as is. Eight feet in height, a size granted by extensive genetic alteration and armor built for superhuman warriors, he looked down upon the normal humans with disdain. He walked out from behind the trucks and corralled the stragglers into a cluster where the Space Marines could surround them, "Janice, check the trucks. Though I highly doubt our intelligence is inaccurate."

The woman pulled the knife away from the man's throat and swiftly sliced down the calf muscles in his left leg. He grunted, followed by her forcing him to his knees. A boot came down upon the wound and twisted within it. He screamed in agony.

"Touch me again and I'll do the same to your balls." She whispered in his ear, before letting go and pushing him into the dirt. He coiled up to clutch the wound. He would recover in time, if the Astartes didn't execute him in a few minutes.

She ran back to one of the trucks and opened the back up to find grey crates. Pulling one out, she took her bionic arm and smashed the reinforced black lock clean off of the container, opening it. Circuitry, parts, and manuals were inside, "Yep, this is what we were looking for!" She yelled back to the marines.

"You motherfucking mutant alien creeps! Do you have any idea whose haul this is? Who this was supposed to be delivered to?" The overseer approached the sergeant, who towered over him. The man despite his insignificance in comparison to the Space Marine, was unbowed.

"I know exactly who it was going to, which is why I was sent to stop it. Now all of you lower your weapons."

"Who the fuck do you think you are, coming from another world and telling us about this fucking imaginary Emperor of yours—"

The sergeant took a backhanded swing at the man, knocking out at least two teeth and sending him flying to the ground.

"Does anyone else want to join him?"

All of the criminals raised their hands and dropped whatever guns and clubs they had.

Chapter One: Beyond Regulation

"This fair city has seen better days, and it will again. The Space Marines are here to stay. Keeping the peace here and defending us from foreign threats above, I speak for every last one of use when I say thank you." The mayor of the most iconic city on the planet was addressing a crowd in a town hall, a colonial era building expanded and restored many times, the main hall was left to fit only a few dozen people, though there three times as many reporters in balconies above keenly listening to the speech. Towards the end of it, the mayor kept focusing on the giant man off to the right of the audience.

A Space Marine garbed in cream colored armor, wrapped in a cape of bold, eye popping red, stood there like a statue. His helmet was tucked into the crook of his arm so all could see his face. Unlike most of his hardened brethren, this Space Marine had a slightly effeminate complexion, softer features and a sharper jaw. He bore few facial scars and had a full head of hair that looked done up for the cameras, whether this was his doing or another's suggestion was unknown, it did not make it any less odd. He had a stern look and heavy brow, but the smirk was like a welcoming smile when compared to the callous indifference of his underlings. "Ladies and gentleman of the city, I proudly present our guest, Lord Captain Rendon Cayde of the Dawn Sentinels Space Marines."

There was much applause, even from the reporters. The captain took one long step over the three small ones meant for regular people and onto the stage. It had to be reinforced to support his weight, but still it creaked under hundreds of pounds of metal and man. The mayor took the captain's outstretched hand in friendship, the great glove dwarfing his own. Cameras flashed without end as the tiny bald man traded places with the great hero from another world.

"Thank you for the rousing speech Mr. Mayor. And that was a good poem at the beginning; please do send me a copy." That last part got a chuckle out of the crowd; the mayor was honored to no end by the compliments. He grinned and parted ways with the captain, and took a seat in the front row by where Cayde had just been standing.

"Thank you all for having us in these troubled times. It is unfortunately not unheard of these days for planets to have lost contact with their forefathers. This planet is in that regard no different. Humanity has an empire that spans across every star you see above at night, but that glorious bastion of society is under siege every day, leading to genocide and catastrophe of unimaginable scale." He could see his speech was mortifying the crowd, so he quickly changed his tune. "My people are outsiders to you all. Outsiders that are far removed from everything you have built here. I would not see one fraction of it changed. As you know, in exchange for allowing us to construct a fortress monastery on your arctic continent, I have seen to it that Space Marines aid law enforcement on occasion in matters most dire. In this way the crimes of terrorism and other warlike actions have dropped significantly, and will continue to do so while this partnership stands. The stars, while they may seem beautiful from down here, harbor mutants, aliens, traitors, and murderers. I swear it now as I did as a boy of tender years taking my first words as an Astartes, not one citizen amongst you will know death at the hands of our enemies." This was followed by deafening applause, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to. I wish everyone in this fair city a wonderful weekend, and a good day." Captain Cayde stepped from the podium and strode down the aisle out of the door, where two Space Marines were there to escort him. Reporters swarmed him, though were careful to keep enough distance as to not be trampled by the giant boots of the soldiers. It was a grand sight, and across the street there were cheers, the waving of small homemade pennants, flags, and signs of support. It was a good day to be a Space Marine.

Captain Cayde and the two sergeants walked down the city street, past a public square dominated by an elaborate multi-tiered fountain. It was complete with a light show, rotating streams that made the water dance in the air, and many bronze statues of ancient gods and modern pioneers. Near the fountain's corner lower on the pavilion, workers had just finished work on sculpting the visage of what would soon be the Emperor. He would not be the largest statue amongst the group, but that was a detail unimportant to the locals, for what was he but a god to the outsiders?

Everyone, from the lowest plebs to the haughtiest aristocrat, was eager to greet the three men, but mostly Lord Cayde. That was what the papers were calling him. Lord Cayde and his Marines from Outer Space, the title made him smile.

"Lord Cayde! I'd like you to hear a business proposal if you had a moment!"

"It's the Lord Captain everyone! Make way!"

"I want to shake his hand!"

"Mommy look it's the giant men from outer space!"

The three space marines approach a high end restaurant on a street corner, bedecked in elaborate decorations. Private security garbed in black suits kept the press at bay with steel dividers. Knowing the meeting would take place here, media outlets from around the world was abuzz about such a gathering of power. An orchestra played under an awning for all to see, and the acoustics were designed for the sound to travel through the restaurant and up to the second floor. Normally busboys would be there to take the coats of esteemed guests, but the Space Marines did not part with their attire.

Booming trombones, soaring saxophones, clarinets, and all kinds of other musical instruments filled the wide enclosure with mirth and song. There was a dance floor off to the far left in a recessed box where guests could watch others, and handfuls were already partaking. Men and women danced and ate the night away, happy with their lives. The restaurant manager stood at the center of the space ready to greet them with a dozen attendants behind him at attention. The place was a maze, with steps leading up and down to platforms with a half dozen tables per, garnished with lamps and flavorful décor that established the exclusivity of the eatery.

"Gentlemen, Captain."

"Thank you for receiving us in your wonderful establishment sir." Cayde looked around and was impressed by what he saw. Hardly comparable to the eating halls of any Astartes abode, but they lacked the style, class, and fantastical beauty of this place, "Are the others here?"

"They are already on the upper level, awaiting your arrival." Cayde nodded and was escorted by some of the staff up winding pathways higher and higher into a private area that overlooked the entire restaurant and the orchestra by the open palisade.

The upper floor had a series of glass windows that were separated by tied red velvet curtains bearing the seal of the restaurant stitched upon them. The long dining table, chairs, plates, silverware, and glasses were all specially crafted to be upsized for the Space Marines.

Those attending the dinner were asked to order several hours before hand so that the food could be made to absolute perfection, and the larger portion sizes guaranteed an extended time would be needed to prepare it. With each officer having different preferences on top of the other special arrangements, a quarter of the kitchen staff had to work since midday solely preparing their food.

At the head of the table was the illustrious Captain Cayde, followed by the company Chaplain, Vespasian Lucinor. He was on good days Cayde's intellectual rival and on bad days simply a grouch. But never was he wrong or misguided. Supposedly seen as a voice of reason to counter Cayde's delusions of grandeur, Vespasian looked on with an unwavering distaste for all that transpired here.

Next were the two veteran sergeants that led Cayde's Tactical Squads into battle. Flavius and Dorian. They were responsible for duties that Vespasian and Epistolary Kuzon were not in charge of, answering exclusively to Cayde. They were happy simply to follow his orders and serve the Emperor, their personal feelings came after that.

Across from them was Apothecary Glencour, a man with no shortage of wisdom. He led Cayde's command squad into battle, and maintained a current knowledge on much of the Dawn Sentinels' activities on the planet for Cayde. Whenever the Captain needed to make a decision or information regarding any sort of activity for political or economic endeavors, he went to Glencour.

Following Glencour at the table was Epistolary Kuzon, acting Chief Librarian for the Dawn Sentinels. Once known as the "Red Meteor", he was famous for leading campaigns with a jump pack strapped to his spine. At one point in time his armor was painted red to match his moniker, but it was damaged beyond repair during a recent battle against heretics; now he bedecked himself in the codex sanctioned ultramarine blue. He was always one to be bombastic and humorous. In fact, throughout the dinner he was setting the table on a roar with joke after joke.

Upon learning the restaurant could not accommodate for the tremendous size of terminator armor, Hagen, first amongst Cayde's Consigliore, decided to wear ceremonial robes. The Consigliore were the Terminators that followed the Captain into battle, and as the name suggested they were also his councilors. The codex does not specifically designate a Command Squad as a bodyguard detachment. With the battle company spread thinly to maintain hold of this world and manage campaigns in several others, his Command Squad acted similarly to Sternguard Veterans, which most of them were.

The last space marines at the table were of little importance, leading Cayde's small aerial and heavy support divisions, namely a handful of Stormtalon gunships, a Predator tank, and a Centurion Squad.

Cayde was enjoying the festivities, watching Kuzon just lay out the banter, bombarding the table with humor. Making light of what was at the time harrowing situations and grim battles. It was like this world, no matter how primitive, was a reprieve from the darkness of eternal war. To them, every day was another battle, another world in flames needing salvation, another uprising needing annihilation. It seemed that the months here, studying these humans, living with them, allowed the Space Marines to remember what it was like to be truly human.

He rose, and silenced the table by tapping his armored finger to his oversized drinking glass, "Gentlemen, comrades, it's good to have you all in one place for the first time in many months. I've read all of your reports carefully, and it's fine work. Just last night, Sergeant Flavius and his squad seized two trucks filled with augmented weapons tech bound for a research conference. Information had come to us saying one of the attendees had planned to use it to take over the event and seize his competitors' wares. Thanks to our actions this planet trusts our presence more than ever before."

Sergeant Flavius added, "It was not just my actions Captain, but also the girl, Voltaeus. She was instrumental in tracking the criminals and learning of their operation."

"The woman deserves more than just our thanks. That's for sure." Kuzon bellowed, followed by every man at the table nodding in agreement, except Vespasian.

"Say, why can't we make room at the table for her the next time we have one of these meetings? She's a charmer, a great shot, hanging around the recruitment office and barracks at all hours. Smart enough to help us plan ahead, and privy to some of our upper level intelligence too. She's practically earned a seat right next to good old Vespasian." Glencour made a gesture of pulling his seat away from the Chaplain to make room for her.

"But she is a woman." Vespasian interjected.

"And what of it?" Hagen retorted.

"No woman can ever become Astartes. She can't become a blood brother of the Chapter."

"When did that come up? No one is even remotely saying she should undergo genetic augmentation." Sergeant Dorian rose from his seat to stare deeply into the eyes of Chaplain Lucinor, "What honor do we lose by allowing her, a woman of barely twenty five years, to conduct business with Chapter Command? She has earned her place in our hearts, and could earn it upon the battlefield in time given the chance. It may not be my place to recommend such things, but neither is it your place to reject them."

"Gentlemen enough! Please, let us eat, before our veal gets cold, our vegetables turn ripe, and our liquor goes rancid. I haven't had food like this in ages, and neither have you, so for fuck's sake enjoy it while you can." Kuzon was always one to diffuse a situation with brevity or by simply spouting something daft. This time was no different, as the men returned to their seats and began eating again.

Janice had put on a ramshackle disguise in a matter of moments, a long silky black wig, black hat with a wide brim and some netting to veil her eyes, a long dress with a fashionable coat over it, and underneath she had tied her pack in such a way as to pass for a pregnant woman. Packing away the small hand mirror into a coat pocket, she clutched a theater ticket in a gloved hand and vanished into a crowd of people headed for the theater. There were many lines given the gravitas of the actors performing tonight, and they were slow because of the new security checks. They didn't exactly check pregnant women though, so she sped through, got her ticket punched, and kept up the act until she disappeared into the tight stairwells leading up to the balconies. Speeding up the stairs where no one could see her, Janice found a seat in her preferred spot on the second level to the right of the stage.

As hundreds were filling the theater, she prepared her tool of choice, a simple pair of opera glasses. And so she waited, placing the glasses in her lap before her 'belly'. She loved the opera, and knew very well the show that was playing, but had not come for that primarily.

By the time the curtains rose, and the orchestra began the overture, a great armored figure had taken up position near the rear of the theater by one of the doors. It was Captain Cayde. Dim light from the stage illuminated him enough for her to see him clearly, and without his helmet she doubted she would be noticed.

It was odd enough seeing him on opening night, and she had to confirm something.

As the opera began, his lips moved. Janice enjoyed watching enough for her to take her eyes off of him time and again, but when she could see him, she could swear his lips were moving.

Had he learned every line in the opera?

Later on, after the intermission, during the climax of the play, the star actor had everyone enthralled. The story was that he had killed an angel of god, who was sent to take his family to heaven to spare them from a miserable future. A second angel had come to confront the man, and send him to hell in a great duel of force. The man chose to defend his actions in the grand aria of the play, appealing to the angel.

Cayde had taken a few steps forward, into more light. A few members of the audience had only then noticed his presence, though they were more focused on the play. The aria was beautiful, sung by a tenor of peerless skill. The chords sent chills across the audience, and they were all in awe. Rendon Cayde was singing along silently to every word. And a single tear crept down his cheek.

As it concluded, and the audience was giving the actor a standing ovation, Cayde retreated into the shadow by the door, but noticed one person had not stood to give applause.

She was made.

Trying to recover and immediately turned to applaud without standing, she started to sweat. She was in a disguise. And even if Cayde found out it was her spying, would he really punish her? She was unsure, and was nervous for several minutes after. Remembering Sergeant Flavius almost kill a man with a backhand slap, she was sure now the Captain was staring at her something fierce. Without looking back, she decided to leave right when the play concluded, hoping to get lost in the crowd.

Cayde was already out in the street looking for her.

Spotting her, he ran after her. She darted off down the street. The eight foot tall captain should have no trouble catching up with his prey, after all she did look to be with child. He was made to believe otherwise when Janice leapt up a wall and clutched a pole. She effortlessly ascended and dashed onto a rooftop. Cayde could not give chase, and moments later deemed the woman too irrelevant to inform the others. He nodded in defeat and made his way back to the barracks, where the other marines were surely waiting for him to begin the evening prayers.

The next morning, Apothecary Glencour walked into the command quarters of the barracks to find Cayde scribbling down notes in a book that he could only assume was a personal journal.

"Morning Captain." He said cheerily.

"Glen." He nodded without giving eye contact, continuing to write without pause, as if the thoughts might be lost forever had they not been transcribed this instant.

"Something troubling you Rendon?" He addressed the man by his first name, a privilege few had.

The book slammed shut, and Cayde looked up, "Did they tell you what this building used to be?"

"I think so. Used to be a grand hotel, but the owners overextended themselves. Too much space, too much maintenance, and not enough guests to bring in proper revenues to cover expenses. When we asked for a space to conduct business within the city limits, they gave us this."

"Very true. Instead of trying to spread our men too thinly across this world, I made the decision to concentrate our influence here, in this city. Does that make sense to you?"

"I suppose. Though I doubt there is a reason to worry on it. No one but the criminals and the riffraff are displeased with us. The majority of them adore us. They adore you. Tell me Rendon, what nonsense has gotten into your head these past few weeks that fills you with such doubt as to have me reinforce that this plan of yours is working?"

"I received a communique from the Chapter Master last week. He applauds our work here, but does not see the point in us staying much longer. What do we gain by staying, and if they have been undisturbed all of this time, will they not remain so if we leave?

"That's Vespasian getting to you again, getting to him. The Chaplain is at times too pragmatic for his own good, focused on finality and results, fatalistic and stubborn too. I know he's a wise man, but sometimes you just have to tell him to bugger off!" That last part had both of them chuckling.

"There's something else too. I went to the theater last night, and I caught someone spying on me."

"What do you mean by spying?"

"As in looking at me, studying me, and I doubt it was the first time either. I think it will be the last though. I waited for them to leave the theater, I gave chase but they got away in a most acrobatic fashion."

"How dubious. Well, Ms. Voltaeus frequents that theater, maybe she can help you investigate the matter."

"Of course. Also do you know where she is? I want to speak with her."

"No I don't sadly, but you could just call her. This planet and their pocket telephones. Though, I have seen stranger things. Praise the Emperor, have good day Captain."

"You too, Glen."

Janice chugged the last of a coffee while sitting at a table against a wall in the high end chain shop. Swiveling in the stool, she was still shaken up about the prior evening. Images of it kept flashing in her head. She wanted to focus more on the oaken brown walls, the marble countertops, and the sweet smells of fresh breakfast foods, sweet fruits, and brewed coffee.

Someone approached her from behind; she could hear the footsteps even amongst the sounds of the bustling shop. Turning her head, a sharply dressed man swaggered towards her.

"Brendon Gould, well aren't you a swell surprise." She turned in the stool completely.

"Janice, how's the hand?" He smiled, teeth white as snow, and shook her mechanical hand.

She squeezed hard, and if she applied enough force she could crush his hand, but knew better, "I'd say screw you and let's be done with it, but that won't happen."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? I mean, I would."

She rolled her eyes, and jumped up to hug him, "It's good to see you." She said as she backed off.

"So what was this about, last week you called me about a potential case?"

"Yeah, but we need to keep it on the down low." Brendon stood next to her against the high table and they began to whisper, "It may have something to do with that tech conference happening this weekend."

"The Sunstorm Expo? I read something in the papers that the Space Marines seized some illegal tech bound for that conference. Saying someone was going to try and take it over."

"Yeah the whole thing is on high alert, extra security, even the Marines themselves are sending people to keep an eye on it. But the organization says the exchange of ideas is too important to halt or delay the event."

"Okay, so what do you need from me?"

Janice pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to Brendon, "I've narrowed down potential suspects to four names. If you could do a background check, secret audit, or whatever it is you do, I'd be grateful, and paying too."

"What am I looking for?"

"Anyone who was preparing to receive two truckloads of nanotech weapons."

"Nanotech?" He yelled, which was followed by Janice having to hectically bring his voice back down to a whisper, "Nanotech? Someone tried to smuggle in nanotechnology and take over that conference?"

"It seems like it. So can I count on you or not?"

"Sure. But if this goes south, it's on you."

As they both left the coffee shop, Brendon's navy blue sports car glimmered in the sunlight. Janice smirked, seeing that it paid for him to be one of the best attorneys in the city. They hugged again, and he hopped into his car and drove off. Janice past two burly men leaning against the building, she sneered as she past them. Her phone vibrated and chimed in her pocket. Pulling it out, she slid a finger across the screen and answered it. Janice didn't care to notice the badge stitched onto their jackets.

An eight pointed star. A mark the Space Marines knew too well.


End file.
